


Of birds and songs

by RogueLioness



Series: Kiana Trevelyan One Shots [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Freeform, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, One Shot, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:18:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiana decides that becoming a minstrel for a night will serve as the perfect distraction for her men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of birds and songs

“I’ve found a way in, Inquisitor,” Harding spoke up, her voice crisp and clear. 

“Excellent work, Lace. If we can infiltrate the Dread Wolf’s castle, we recover the remnants of his orb before he can manage to piece them together.” she said, her face lit with hope.

The new spymaster for their secret operation looked serious. “He’s having a… ball… of sorts. From what I can gather, it’s for his men, but I can’t help thinking it may be a trap.”

Kiana chewed her lip, lost in thought. “It most likely is,” she decided. “Still, we can’t afford to ignore an opportunity. What’s our way in?”

Harding shifted from foot to foot, not meeting her eyes. “First, I have to point out this was the Nightingale’s idea,” she stammered a little, “she thinks you should offer your services as a minstrel.”

“Me? A minstrel? They’ll all see right through me!!” she exclaimed.

“On the contrary,” Leliana’s voice rang out as she entered their small safe house. “I’ve already sowed the seeds of your reputation. A word whispered here and there, a few coins exchanged, and you are now the Canary. Give the word, and Harding will have your details sent to his camp.”

“For the sake of argument - let’s assume that I agree to this harebrained scheme, and you send out my details, or whatever it is you plan to do. What guarantee is there that I’ll be hired?” Kiana argued.

Leliana smirked. “We know the woman in charge of entertainment.”

“This is officially madness. He knows my voice! The moment I start singing, they’ll all know!” she pointed out.

Harding shifted again. “Actually, Inquisitor… your voice has changed.”

She looked at the dwarf in disbelief. “What?”

“Indeed it has.” Leliana said gently. “I suspect it was your body’s way of dealing with the stress dealt to you. Your voice is slightly smokier than it was before.” 

She was silent for several moments, recalling how he had twisted his magic within her, and how painful it had been at the time. It made sense. She sighed. “Give me a complete rundown of the plan, and I’ll come to a decision.”

“We get you invited to the castle as a performer. Samarth and Rohire - our men already in Fen’harel’s employ - will use the distraction you create to smuggle out the orb fragments. They have everything they need from their side - plans for entry to the room where the fragments are kept, disguises, and an exit strategy. It should go off without a hitch.”

“But why does it have to be me? Surely we can get Maryden or someone else?”

Harding shook her head. “It has to be you.”

“So you do plan on me getting recognized!” she burst out. “This is insanity!”

“Kiana, you don’t understand,” Leliana soothed. “You’ll be wearing a mask, and no one will recognize you. But more importantly, when you sing, your voice is enchanting. It is beyond captivating. It commands everyone’s attention. You’ve always been able to sing, but your new voice… trust me when I say that not a soul will be able to move away from the sound of it.”

She grumbled. “And how do I get out of there?”

“Easy,” Leliana replied with a smile, and dropped a necklace with an exquisite pendant on the table. Kiana picked it up, eyeing it doubtfully, when she felt the slightest of hums emanating from it. She raised her brows at the Nightingale. “Dagna’s doing, I presume?”

The red-haired woman nodded. “A modified keystone. It has a transportation spell embedded in it. Once you’re done singing, leave the stage, move to a quiet corner and activate it. It’ll transport you to a safe point close to Skyhold.”

She turned it over in her hands, mulling the plan over. It was a good opportunity to get their hands on the fragments; they’d made several attempts before but they had all failed. She groaned. “Fine, I’ll do it. On a few conditions. If Samarth and Rohire succeed, pull them out. Let them remain in the safe house for a few months, his men will definitely hunt them down and I’d rather they not get caught. If I am compromised, _do not send anyone to help_.” 

Both Leliana and Harding looked uncomfortable at this. “Look,” Kiana explained patiently, “if he manages to get his hands on me, I doubt he’ll be lax when it comes to security, right? There’s no point in throwing good coin after bad. If I’m captured - if I don’t reach the safe point in three days - move. Clear out this safe house, and move to Three Trout farm. Everything’s mostly set up there, so you won’t have too much of an issue.”

“But what will you do?” Harding asked.

“I’ll work to get myself out of there, of course,” she said breezily. The other two still didn’t look convinced. “Maybe it isn’t the best of plans,” Leliana muttered.

“Every plan has an element of risk, my dear Nightingale,” she said. “We can’t afford to sit back and do nothing because we’re afraid of that risk. No, you’re right, this is a good opportunity to finally get our hands on those fragments for Dagna to study. We have to try, at least.” She gave a wry chuckle. “If it’s any consolation, I probably won’t be executed if I’m captured.” 

They both gave her disgusted looks.

The next two weeks were a rush of preparations. Leliana coached her thoroughly on the behavior and decorum of minstrels and bards, and she practiced singing several times, each time noting self-consciously how her voice seemed to draw the people around her towards her. Leliana had been right; her voice was different, and the knowledge made her uncomfortable.

Several days before her “performance”, Harding dropped by with her outfit. It was simple and clean-cut, as per her requirements, but the elegance came from Leliana’s hand. Slim black leggings made of Dales Loden wool paired with a lustrous cotton tunic and a fitted silk brocade coat. Her boots were functional, quiet and warm, made of bear hide leather. She’d had the forethought to break them in - the last thing she needed was blisters as she made her escape.

She sat atop her mount - she was pretty sure it had been stolen, but didn’t want to ask - as Leliana gave her a rundown of the plan, as well as alternate escape plans should she need them. She deliberately ignored the bundle of nerves in her belly - the last thing she needed was their plans ruined through her anxiety.

“You’ll need these,” Leliana reminded her, handing over the keystone necklace and a beautifully elaborate gold filigree mask. The mask, she knew, would match perfectly with the brocade work on her coat. She tied the mask on, enjoying how mysterious she felt sporting it. The Nightingale stepped back, her face shrouded by the shadows of the forest. “Good luck,” she said softly. “Maker watch over you.”

Kiana dug her spurs into her mount’s flank, setting off immediately into a gallop. She dared not look back, fearful that she might be tempted to turn around and call the whole plan off.

She reached a clearing, the one she’d been given directions to. As she tethered her horse, she was approached by an elf wearing full armor, a sword attached to his hip. She vaguely recognized him as one of the Sentinels from the Temple of Mythal, but she couldn’t be sure - the person before her bore no vallaslin.

“ _Andaran atishan_ , my lady Canary. Allow me to serve as your escort to Fen’harel’s castle,” he said with a small bow. She gave a smile in return. “Thank you,” she said, deepening her voice in a attempt to disguise it. 

“It is unfortunate, but necessary that I inspect your person, my lady Canary,” he said. She inclined her head gracefully. “If you must.” she replied, allowing herself to be gently patted down. Once he was certain she carried no hidden weapons, he offered his arm. Taking it, she was escorted through a well-hidden eluvian… straight into the grounds of his castle.

She swallowed. “It is… beautiful,” she said, and indeed it was. It reminded her of Suledin Keep, all pillars and marbles and carvings, but this was not run down at all. It looked as though it had only just been constructed - which she knew was impossible - and the walls gleamed in the soft light of the evening sun.

“I am sure my Lord will be most pleased to hear that, lady Canary,” her escort stated.

She was taken to a room she thought to be adjacent to the ballroom, for she could hear the noise of conversation drifting in. She was not alone; there were several others with her. Minstrels and bards, she mused.

She was surprised to hear an orchestra playing. _What in the world?_ she thought. It seemed so strange for him to be holding a ball, and now an orchestra? Her instincts flared, and warned her to flee. But before she could, her escort returned, and guided her gently into the ballroom, towards where a small stage had been set up. She found herself swallowing thickly as she gave instructions to the small orchestra to her side. Stepping on the stage, she found herself facing a large crowd of elves, and was thankful that few seemed to be paying attention to her.

 **He** , however, most definitely was paying attention.

His forehead was furrowed, as though he was deep in thought, and it felt like he was trying to melt away her mask with the intensity of his gaze. _This was a bad idea, oh, this was a very bad idea,_ she thought.

“... help with that?” Her escort’s voice brought her back into the moment. “Umm, could you repeat that please? Sorry.” she said. He smiled. “I asked if you needed help with a voice amplification spell?” he asked. “No, I can take care of that, thank you,” she squeaked. He graciously handed her a glass of water. “For your throat,” he said magnanimously, a twinkle in his eyes.” 

“Th...thank you,” she stuttered. Taking a sip, she tried to calm her nerves down, relieved that Fen’harel was no longer looking at her. “Are you ready?” her escort asked her.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice boomed out, startling her, “may I present to you, all the way from Antiva, and most recently of Val Chevin, the talented Canary!”

 _Just what kind of a story did Leliana spin?_ she wondered, half-amused, half-wary, waiting for the light smattering of applause to die down. Once it had, she nodded to the orchestra, enjoying the tune. She’d practiced to the tune of Maryden’s lute, but the music from the orchestra was more complex and far more enjoyable.

Her eyes unconsciously sought out his as she began.

_First comes the blessing of all that you’ve dreamed,_  
_But then comes the curses of diamonds and rings;_  
_Only at first did it have it’s appeal,_  
_But now you can’t tell the false from the real._

_Who can you trust?_

_When everything, everything, everything you touch  
Turns to gold, gold, gold._

_When everything, everything, everything you touch  
Turns to gold, gold. _

She took a deep breath, watching how every face in the crowd was turned towards her, noted how there was nary a sound but the music the orchestra played. They gazed at her, enthralled, enraptured, just as Leliana had predicted… and it disconcerted her.

Again she sought him out, his face an inscrutable mask but his eyes firmly fixed on hers. A strange sort of power coursed through her veins, that she could command his attention so, that she could make him focus on naught but her.

With that power rushing through her, her voice turned sultrier.

_Statues and empires are all at your hands,_  
_Water to wine and the finest of sands;_  
_When all that you have is turning stale and it’s cold,_  
_Oh, you’ll no longer feel when your heart’s turned to gold._

_Who can you trust?_

_When everything, everything, everything you touch  
Turns to gold, gold, gold._

_When everything, everything, everything you touch  
Turns to gold._

_Gold._

She let her voice linger on the last note, drawing it out.

No sooner had she removed the spell from her throat than the crowd broke out into thunderous applause. She bowed delicately, relieved to see her escort appear by her side. Tucking her arm into his, he swiftly maneuvered her through the crowd to the waiting room off the ballroom.

“What are you plans, lady Canary?” he asked her politely.

“I intend to travel on to the nearest inn. I have a room reserved for the night,” she said, slightly wary.

“It seems as though your voice has fascinated my lord Fen’harel, and he invites you to spend a few days. You will have our full hospitality.”

She smiled, but it felt forced. She needed him to go, so she could activate the keystone. “Please convey my utmost gratitude to his lordship for the generous invitation, but alas, my plans do not permit me to accept. I would be only too happy to pay his lordship another visit sometime in the near future.”

She heard the doors behind her open, and the sound made her panic a little.

Then she felt his magic flood the room, and she jumped straight into full-blown panic. She tried recalling the alternate plans Leliana had given her, but none of them seemed feasible… not with _him_ in the general vicinity, anyhow.

She heard him approaching her, and forced her features into a polite, aloof mask.

“My lady Canary,” he said, and she thought it was sinful, the way his voice washed over her. Taking her hand and gracefully lifting it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers, he breathed, “Your voice is a marvelous splendor.” Too caught up in his gaze, she noticed too late that his guards had left discreetly, leaving the two of them alone.

 **Alone**. Curses ran through her mind, each more inventive than the last.

She’d been discovered.

And she had nothing with which to defend herself.

Still, there was no point in just caving in. She pasted a smile on her lips. “You are too kind, my lord,” she said, her voice just the slightest bit husky.

He noticed the subtle change, and his gaze sharpened. “Perhaps it was a mistake to hear you sing, my lady,” he purred, “for I find myself unable to let you go.”

_Ah. There it was, the subtle hint he knew who she was._

She played coy. “Such a gracious compliment, my lord, but we both know that birds must spread their voices through the countryside.”

He placed a finger on her lips, his smile sharpening at the hitch in her breath. Her heart thundered in her ears as he drew his finger down her neck, gently caressing her throat as though he were stroking her voice instead.

She watched in horror as his hand closed around the pendant hanging between her breasts and tugged on it, ripping the chain from her neck. “You will not be needing this, I think,” he murmured, his voice a low, deep whisper. She gulped. “I’d like that back, please,” she said, pleased that her voice was calm.

He pulled her towards him, his hands now on her hips. He watched her as he turned, and moved them, making her walk backwards until she was trapped between his chest and the wall. Slowly, he tugged at her mask, his eyes gleaming, glowing, glistening in the candlelit room.

It came off without a fight.

She stood before him, barefaced and defenceless, and they both knew it. His eyes softened as he leaned in to press his lips against hers. When he pulled back, his smile was gentle, but sharp with possession. 

“ _Vhenan_ ,” the endearment rolled so naturally from his tongue, “I am afraid I must ask you to never again sing in public, _ma ina’lan’ehn lah_.”

“Why not?” she whispered, eyes fixed on his.

“Because your voice makes every man and woman desire you,” he said with a grim chuckle. “ _Ma galanor’ean_ ,I cannot have that.”

She swatted his chest. “They do not!” she protested.

“Oh, but they do,” he crooned. “I know how they felt, for I felt it myself. It called out to me. Lured me in. Curled up inside every part of me, till all I knew was you. Till all I wanted was you, _ma’arlath_.” He leaned in and nipped her jaw. “It was… intoxicating.”

Before she could tell him to cease his nonsense, the doors burst open and several of his men rushed in, panicking. They both turned simultaneously towards the source of the distraction. His men froze as they saw her with him. Their leader burst out, “The orb fragments are missing, my lord!”

Fen’harel looked at her, amused. “ _Dea’ma is’el dru_? 

She shrugged. “ _Ar untuan is’el vir._ Someone had to.”

“And here I thought you had come for a dance. It has been quite a while since the one at Halamshiral, has it not?” he grinned.

“I hadn’t noticed,” she muttered.

He sighed. “Whatever am I going to do with you?” he mused, but if the glint in his eye were any indication, he had _plenty_ of ideas to that question.

She wasn’t sure whether to be pleased, or worried.

Her escort ventured into the room slowly, clearly taken aback by the scene in front of him. “My lord,” he said, “people are beginning to talk about your absence.” He nodded curtly at her, a small smile on his lips. “My lady Inquisitor. Allow me to commend you on a truly magnificent performance.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said pleasantly, but Fen’harel gave him a dark look.

Turning to his men, he gave quick, clipped orders. “Take the Inquisitor to my chambers. Be wary; she is _quite_ the wily specimen.” He winked at her. “I will be by shortly.”

Placing a fist over their chest in salute, the men nodded. Fen’harel bound her hands with magic. Leaning in close to her ear, he whispered, “If you keep the bindings on until I come to you, I believe you will find my reward… _extremely pleasurable_.” She scowled at him, and he gave a wicked laugh. “Soon, _emma lath_. I will be with you soon.”

As his men pushed her along, she tossed back at him over her shoulder, “I am not a caged bird, Fen’harel!”, only to be incensed by his reply. 

“You will learn, _emm’asha_ , just as the birds do.”

**Author's Note:**

> andaran atish'an - enter this place in peace 
> 
> ma ina’lan’ehn lah - my beautiful voice
> 
> ma galanor’ean - my magnificent bird
> 
> ma'arlath - my love 
> 
> Dea’ma is’el dru? - were you their distraction? (literally, were you their offering/sacrifice?)
> 
> Ar untuan is’el vir - I cleared their path for them (literally, I made their path)
> 
> emm'asha - my girl/my woman
> 
> Me: I need to write a new chapter, hey, lets put some music on *Imagine dragons plays*  
> *gets entirely new idea*  
> *spends all my time writing new story*
> 
> True story. Imagine dragons always seem to get me. (the song in the story is 'Gold').
> 
>  


End file.
